The Story of How She Died
by Salienne de Lioncourt
Summary: Nothing lasts forever, not even her and the Doctor. So why does she think she'll remember him forever? Sort of a character study of Rose. PostDoomsday. Oneshot.


**A/N: **Well, Doctor Who is a fairly recent obsession, but watching the season 2 finale, I _had_ to write something. It was just so sad and so powerful. So, here you go. I hope you enjoy! Reviews are greatly appreciated!

**A/N2:** A few typos have now been cleared up. I apologize for them... it was really careless of me not to catch them earlier.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Doctor or Rose or anything associated with _Doctor Who_. All those associated with the Doctor Who franchise do. And they're brilliant.

**Summary:** Nothing lasts forever, not even her and the Doctor. So why does she think she'll remember him forever? Rose's thoughts post-Doomsday (more or less). Oneshot.

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**The Story of How She Died**

She never told him that she remembered. It started slowly at first, gradually, a feeling of familiarity here, a vivid dream there. It started when his new body fell into a coma; looking at him, she knew she had lost him but didn't know why. She didn't know why he was gone. She knew it had something to do with looking into the TARDIS, knew it had something to do with how he got rid of the Daleks, but for the life of her she couldn't remember what happened and she didn't know _why_ he was gone, why she had to lose him. And looking at him and feeling that tremendous sorrow, she began to remember.

That golden light, his slumbering face—both reminded her. The glow was familiar because she'd seen it before, _felt_ it before. The glow that killed him made her remember. It made her remember looking into the TARDIS, made her remember talking to the TARDIS, made her remember the TARDIS talking back. She remembered a bonding, a bonding and an understanding. And then there was the kiss.

She didn't believe it at first. She thought it was just a product of her yearning and grief, a balm provided by her overactive imagination. But gazing at that peaceful face, she couldn't help but see another, familiar face, the face of the old Doctor. In her mind that face was so kind, so tender, and it was inches away. She could feel his lips on hers.

She had to be making it up, she had to be fabricating a connection to the man she had lost. But she wasn't. The more she thought about it, the more she struggled to remember, the more she was certain. He had kissed her and he had done it to save her life.

The Doctor was up and about by the time she remembered it all. That feeling—no, it was more than a feeling, that state of _being_ where all of time and space were under her control—that was the last thing to come back to her, probably because it was so incredibly overpowering. After all, it was lethal, wasn't it? She never was able to grasp that sensation in all its intensity, but once she had it—the basics, anyway—she really did have everything that mattered. She remembered destroying the Daleks, ripping them apart atom by atom through all of time. She remembered sending "Bad Wolf" out to haunt her and the Doctor through space and time. She remembered saving Jack. And she remembered how the Doctor saved her, how he took all of the Time Vortex into himself just to save her.

_All that is… All that was… All that could ever be…_

_That's what I see, all the time. And doesn't it drive you mad?_

Did he see this? He'd warned her of a storm approaching, warned her against trusting in some "forever" that he knew could never be. And what a fool she'd been, thinking she was right, thinking the Doctor—his life so long she couldn't even comprehend it—was wrong. How could she think that the Doctor would never be alone again? How could she think that she would always be there holding his hand? Barely two years and it had all fallen apart. Barely two years and he was gone.

_And I suppose… if it's my last chance to say it… Rose Tyler, I love you._

But he never got to that last part, did he? He ran out of time. That last little crack in the universe closed up and he ran out of time. They were divided, separated forever. He was alone forever. He was gone.

_If it's my last chance to say it…_

And he hadn't. God, their last chance and he still couldn't say it. He could never say it. But he had to be closed off, didn't he? After all, she could have spent the rest of her life with him—could have, those words hurt so much—but he could never spend the rest of his life with her. She would be dead in barely a blink of an eye and he would just… go on, living with that pain. Two years—what was that to a Time Lord? Did those years even make a difference?

_If it's my last chance to say it…_

He loved her. She had known it for ages, known it when he held her hand, when he hugged her, when he stopped at nothing to save her. By the same token, she knew the Doctor had to be aware of her feelings for him. Only an idiot would remain oblivious, and if there was just one thing in this Universe that the Doctor wasn't, that was an idiot. He knew.

So she loved him and he loved her. They went on fabulous adventures together and took care of one another, defeating the Big Bad Wolf time and time again. They _deserved_ that happily ever after. How could fate be so cruel?

_Rose Tyler, I love you._

Sobbing into her mother's shoulder, Rose could barely speak. "Mum, I miss him. God, he just left and I miss him so much."


End file.
